


Wanderlust

by orphan_account



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Exploration, Fluff, Fun, Humor, Impregnation, Incest, M/M, Mpreg, Parent/Child Incest, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-20 17:47:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20231866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: During a particularly terrifying adventure at the mountains, Snufkin remembers a pleasant summer spent with his father. Among....other things.Stars above, he better not die after all that's happened.





	1. A Mess

_Well_, Snufkin thinks to himself as he hangs over the abyss, _this is quite a mess I’ve gotten myself into._

It’s hot. Unbearably so; his coat sticking to his skin and sweat trickling down his brow. Red dyes his vision and screams fill his ears, nausea toying with his stomach. The world around him spins and spins, the branch suspending him in the air spiraling higher and higher, causing the mountain to bleed into the sky and his friends to blur into nothing but colors and shapes, the lonely Mumrik choking on his collar. A low rumble shakes the earth, the whole of Moominvalley shook to its very core.

The ground splits. The wind howls. The monsters climbing the ever-growing tree scream, climbing closer and closer to where Snufkin hangs, defenseless save for his fists—and even if he were to defend himself, one swing would send him falling down into the mountain’s depths, surely towards his own doom.

Snufkin looks up at where his coat snags on the branch’s protruding end, face pale and breaths coming out in soft, quick gasps. He reaches one hand up to grab it, finding it out of reach; reaches another towards the base of the tree, just as hopeless of a task as the first. He catches a glimpse of the strange, slobbering creatures from the corner of his eye, but a moment’s away from him, almost within reach.

His heart twists in his chest, the young Mumrik torn between reaching again for the branch and throwing himself off the edge. Anything to get away from the beasts hunting him.

“_Snufkin_!”

The shout pulls him from his thoughts, his body feeling as though it were dipped in a bucket of ice. His heart stutters in his chest and his eyes widen, and he looks down to the blurred shapes below him, finding the eyes of his father. The wide, piercing gaze of his father, glowing blue-green mixed with so much emotion that it causes the younger to pause, startled by how open and unguarded the other’s face is.

Scared at how much fear shakes through his father’s call for him and consumes his usually calm and collected expression.

_Rip—_

A noise above him grabs his attention, Snufkin glancing up to find the cloth of his coat tearing. His eyes widen, and he reaches for the branch once more, trying to pull himself up—to stop the inevitable fall he knows is to come—but one of the creatures reaches him, swatting his hand away.

_Rip!_

“_Ah_—”

The cloth tears away, and Snufkin’s heart jumps into his throat as he drops, the wind briefly revealing the slight swell of his stomach while he falls, turning head-over-heels as he descends through the air.

He doesn’t even have half the mind to scream.

_What a mess_, he repeats to himself, _to end up in a situation like this_.

So, he falls, tears stinging his eyes as he closes them, bracing for the end. Accepting that this is what will happen, whether he wants it to or not.

And stars above, this is _not_ what he wants.


	2. Three Months Earlier

“What are you doing, Snufkin? Head in the clouds again?”

Snufkin raises his hat from his face, rolling his eyes to look up at Moomin. It’s a beautiful day; the sun hangs high in the air, a gentle breeze blows through the trees, the stream beneath the bridge flows quietly enough to lull him into a sense of security and calm. _Such an amazing welcome back_, he thinks to himself idly. Though his welcome backs are usually filled with excitement and adventure, he doesn’t mind these calmer moments either, a slower settlement back into the valley after a winter away.

This time, he’d gotten back later than he’d meant to, having missed the entirety of the spring season. Not on purpose, of course; just busy with other business during the winter, tying up loose ends. It’s true that he doesn’t talk much of his time spent away from Moominvalley, opting for his privacy over everything else, as much as it seems to hurt his friend with him being gone so long. But some adventures are best kept to oneself, and his time down south are times he cherishes, even if it’s time spent alone.

Today had been a lazy day beside the river, fishing and talking about anything and everything, Moomin at his side rambling about their various adventures and what trouble they could get into and Snufkin adding in his input every so often.

Though, he hadn’t realized he’d stopped somewhere along the way to nap. He hadn’t meant to doze off, but with Moominmama’s pancakes in his system and a pleasant warmth seeping into his skin from the early-summer sun, avoiding such a thing is easier said than done.

Looking up at Moomin’s inquiring expression, he smiles, poking the other on the nose. “Suppose so, friend,” he yawns out, stifling it with his fist. He sits up, shaking his hair out and saying, “You know how us Snufkins can be. We’re a lazy bunch.”

“Troublemakers, I’d say,” the other chuckles. He tilts his head, suddenly frowning. “What were you thinking about?” Moomin asks.

Snufkin pauses. “…Truth be told, I can’t remember. Must not’ve been too important.” He slips his hat back on, adjusting it just so. He turns to Moomin, looking the other up and down. “Say, why don’t we go fetch Little My and visit the caves? I’m itching to wander.”

Moomin chuckles. “If you’re not sleeping, you’re exploring, I swear,” he murmurs. “But of course, I’d love to do that, Snufkin. Though, I can’t say I know where Little My is at the moment; last I heard, she was down by the beach.”

“Then we’ll check the beach first. Nothing wrong with that.” Snufkin climbs onto his feet and stretches, letting out a soft groan. “Oof. Perhaps napping on the bridge wasn’t the best idea…”

“A good walk will help, I’m sure! Come on!”

Moomin grabs his hand, and before Snufkin can argue, they’re off; Moomin dragging the other behind him and towards the direction of the beach, giving a quick yell to his parents before heading off.

Snufkin looks towards his friend as they walk, looking between him and their joined hands with a small hum. A small smile twitches onto his face, the Mumrik pulling the brim of his hat into his eyes, following along without complaint.

_Yes_, he decides, _I missed this dearly. _

Snufkin pulls out his harmonica and plays as they walk, the melody echoing throughout the valley and making Moomin smile.

_But then again, there’s much to miss here in Moominvalley._

“…That’s odd. Where could she be?”

They stand amongst sand and rocks, spread out in their search for Little My, exasperated and flustered by the sun’s heat. Waves crash on the beach’s edge, a few holes dug into the ground from where the Antlion had been digging earlier, a crab skittering about in the sand in front of Snufkin and disappearing out of sight. A few birds call out above their heads, flying about without a care, unaware of their struggle to find their little friend. 

Because the beach, besides themselves, is empty.

“She has to be around here somewhere,” Snufkin mutters to himself, frowning. He taps his foot in the sand, looking around. “Perhaps we’re not looking in the right place…”

“Nonsense! Little My wouldn’t stray too far from this part of the beach—not unless someone else is with her.” Moomin wrings his hands, whimpering. “Oh, gosh, what if something’s happened?”

Snufkin sighs. “Now, now, Moomin,” he comforts gently, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “no need to panic. I’m sure everything is fine; if anything, she might be back at Moominhouse. Now, why don’t we try looking over—”

“Hey! Moomin, Snufkin!”

They both turn. There, standing on the rocks and waving down at them, is Little My, her usual, mischievous smile spread across her face. A figure stands next to her, silhouetted by the sunlight, but from where Snufkin and Moomin stand, the other person’s face remains obscured, unrecognizable.

“Little My!” Moomin shouts, waving back with equal enthusiasm. The two run over, looking up at her and squinting. “What are you doing up there?”

“Seems an awfully long ways up for you to be climbing, Little My,” Snufkin calls. “I would hope that you’re not doing anything reckless without us, yes?”

“Oh, hush your worrying, Snufkin! I’m fine! I was just looking for a place to rest after chasing after Sniff—” _sounds like Little My_, Snufkin thinks with a snort, “—when I found someone lying in the rocks!”

“Oh, my,” Moomin mutters. Turning to Snufkin, he says, “Do you think they’re hurt?”

“Not sure.” Snufkin frowns. He calls up to Little My, “Are they alright?”

Little My nods. “Yeah! They’re fine! But you won’t believe who it is—here, we’ll come down now!”

“Alright, just be careful!”

“Oh, hush, Moomin, I’m fine!”

Moomin and Snufkin chuckle as Little My and the stranger disappear from sight, turning away from the rocks. They lean in, whispering among themselves.

“Golly, who do you think it is?” Moomin asks.

“Beats me,” Snufkin hums, shrugging. “Maybe it’s the Hobgoblin again. Perhaps he lost his hat again.”

“Maybe…”

“Hey, numbnuts! Over here!”

They turn to face Little My, smiles on their faces.

Snufkin’s disappears immediately upon seeing who’s walking up alongside her.

The person in question looks just as he remembers. Dressed in rags and patchy clothes, blue-green eyes hidden underneath a red hat, a straw sticking out of his mouth and a pipe held in his paws, the other grins, mischief dancing in his sparkling eyes.

“Well, my boy,” he says, stepping forward. “It sure has been some time, has it not?”

Snufkin tenses, his eyes widening. In his moment of shock, his mouth moves without his say, bringing life to a word he hasn’t uttered in years: “Papa?”


	3. Catching Up

There’s a pause. Neither of them move, opting instead to study the other, taking in each other s though they were seeing the other for the first time. Some changes are noticeable since the last time they’ve seen each other; Snufkin notices grey mixed with brown in Joxter’s whiskers and hair, scars running along the older Mumrik’s body from what Snufkin assumes are from skirmishes with wild animals.

_Cute_, Snufkin thinks, only for his face to flush. He drops his gaze to his shoes, cursing himself. _Stop it. He’s your father._

Perhaps. But, as much as he hates to admit it, he does find the other Mumrik attractive; has since the moment they met a few years before. There’s a twinge of guilt in the thought, but Snufkin has long since made peace with his inner demons, having accepted it as a simple crush and nothing more. Something that would never develop into anything more, even if he wants there to be more.

Though the thought doesn’t stop the heat from rising in his groin as, just as Snufkin had, Joxter looks him over, taking in how much taller he is, how more mature he seems, the way he holds himself up as though nothing can bring him down. His expression is unreadable, but judging by the gleam in his eyes, he finds the sight in front of him something to be proud of.

Snufkin doesn’t know whether to bolt or to melt into the ground.

“Well?” Joxter extends a hand, smiling wide. “Aren’t you going to greet me, boy? Or have you lost your morals since last we saw one another?”

“Morality is subjective, Papa,” Snufkin finds himself saying, a thin frown on his face, though there’s warmth in his face that he doesn’t dare bring attention to. _More than you realize,_ he adds privately. He stares at the other’s extended hand, unable to move. Struggling to speak. “What are you doing here? I thought you one to avoid the valley.”

“Avoid?” Joxter chuckles. “Goodness, no! The winds merely call me elsewhere. Though, they happened to lead me here for the summer season. So, are you going to greet me, or—_oof_—”

Snufkin cuts him off with a hug, wrapping his arms around the older Mumrik’s middle. Burying his face in the other’s shoulder, he exhales, a smile twitching onto his face.

“I missed you, Papa.”

Joxter tenses, caught off guard by the sudden action, unsure of how to react. A soft smile crosses his face as he returns the hug, a soft purr rumbling in his chest. “Likewise,” he murmurs. Letting him go, he steps back, examining Snufkin’s attire. “You seem to be faring well on your own.”

“I’m an adult, Papa. I know how to care for myself.” Snufkin says with a roll his eyes.

“I am aware. Though, I assume you have help on occasion?”

The other blinks. Glancing over his shoulder, he finds Little My and Moomin watching on with amusement, the two sharing a smile when Snufkin sees them. He chuckles. “I suppose. Though this lot tends to get me into trouble more than anything.”

“Hey!” Moomin whines, stomping his foot. “You’re more of a troublemaker than we are!”

“Oh? Am I?” Snufkin asks innocently.

“You nearly got us killed at the Park, Snufkin,” Little My reminds.

“The Park?” Joxter’s eyes widen slightly. “What were you doing there?”

Snufkin dismisses his father’s worried tone with a simple shrug. “Causing trouble,” he says, rocking back onto his heels. He pauses, looking his father in the eyes and saying, “Certainly you’ve gotten yourself wrapped up in matters from time to time.”

“Perhaps,” Joxter agrees vaguely. “Nothing surprising for a Joxter, however.” He grins. “Now a Snufkin…I’ve heard they’re ones to get themselves into all kinds of messes.”

“Oh, Papa, don’t tease me.”

Joxter just laughs at the other’s pout.

“Say, Mr. Joxter,” Moomin interrupts their little back-and-forth, stepping forward as he speaks, hands wrung in front of him as though the action would calm his nerves. “Why don’t you come with us to the caves? We were headed there after finding Little My. I’m sure it’d be a lot of fun!”

“The caves, you say,” Joxter hums. He taps a finger on his chin, thinking it over. “It sure has been some time since I’ve been to the mountains…not since I was a kit, that is.”

“But you _will_ come?” Snufkin asks. His gaze leaves little room for argument, Joxter notes; a stubborn fire burning in the younger Mumrik’s eyes, an unspoken threat hidden within his words. _You _will_ come_, his eyes seem to demand, _no argument about it_.

Joxter just shrugs, letting out a yawn as he stretches. “Mayhaps,” he says with a hint of a tease in his tone, grinning. He winks when Snufkin frowns at him. “Though I’m afraid I can’t go without getting something in return.”

Snufkin crosses his arms, “Which is?”

Joxter’s smile widens, turning wolfish. “Some one-to-one time with my son, of course.”

Well, that isn’t hard to do, Snufkin supposes. Truth be told, the desire was mutual between them; Snufkin knows very little of his papa and vice-versa, and it would be nice to get to know the other more. But, Snufkin can sense a game coming on between them, and he smiles, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Perhaps,” he says with a shrug. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Joxter hums.

Snufkin just smiles.

_Let the games begin._

“It’s a lot darker than I remember it being.”

They stand in front of the cave’s mouth, peering into the darkness beyond. It’s cold; a brisk breeze blowing from within the cave’s depths, a stark contrast when compared to the sun’s heat. A low, rumbling hum can be heard from the cave’s entrance, the sound having stopped the group short from entering.

“Oh, come on, Moomin,” Little My snickers, elbowing the troll and earning a yelp, “don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now. We only just got here!”

“Well, yes, but…” Moomin looks back into the cave, his gaze growing distant. Disturbed. “I didn’t think it’d be so…freaky.”

“Oh, please! We’ve been here plenty of times before and you weren’t scared!”

“Wh—I’m not scared! Just…cautious!”

Little My runs around Moomin, throwing her arms up in the air. “Moomintroll’s scared! Moomintroll’s scared! Scaredy-cat Moomin—Moomintroll’s scared!”

Snufkin tunes out his friends’ bantering, kneeling at the cave’s entrance and listening closely. He closes his eyes, listening to the gentle thrum coming from within, the call of the wind. This is what he loves about nature; what calls him to leave the valley to explore the world. The sounds of the wild always did calm him, even when he was but a tiny kit, calling him to it long before he could explore on his own. Even as his friends panic and grow weary of the cave, he finds its presence comforting, calming, a wonderful escape away from civilization. Something to be treasured, not feared.

“If you are both so scared, you can return back to Moominhouse,” he hears Joxter suggest, a laugh evident in the other’s words. Snufkin opens his eyes to look up at his father, quirking an eyebrow at the other’s amused smile. “Snufkin and I can tell you what we find when we get back.”

Snufkin narrows his eyes. _He’s planning something_, he realizes. _But what?_

Moomin blinks, Little My pausing in her taunting to look at Joxter. The two share a look, frowning at each other.

“Are you sure, Joxter?” Little My asks. She huffs, crossing her arms and saying, “We could stay out here and wait for you to come back. It’s not that bad here.”

Joxter shrugs. “You can do whatever you like,” he says. “I merely suggested it considering you both seem on edge.”

Moomin doesn’t quite meet the Mumrik’s eyes, “W-Well…”

“I’m not scared!” Little My scoffs. “It’s really not a problem. We’ll be fine—”

The wind blows harder, a loud, unmistakable hiss rattling through the air.

Moomin and Little My both scream, running in the other direction. In the direction of Moominhouse, specifically.

“S-See you back at home, Snufkin!” Moomin calls.

“Move it, Moomin! You’re awful slow—”

“I’m going, I’m going, gosh!”

Joxter and Snufkin chuckle at the other two’s antics, listening even as their voices get further and further away. “You have quite the group of friends, Snufkin,” Joxter comments, eyes glinting in the sunlight. He ducks into the cave, waving a hand in the air for the other to follow him. “They are amusing, are they not?”

“They can be,” Snufkin murmurs, standing and following after him. He pulls his hat further down on his head, holding it in place as a particular gust of wind threatens to tear it from his head. “They certainly have their moments. Though, I’m sure your friends were the same way, no? I’ve heard from Moominpapa that you and he were close.”

“Yes,” Joxter says, humming, “I suppose we were. We were quite the duo, back in the day.”

The cave grows darker the more they walk. Snufkin steps over a stray rock, frowning to himself, “What happened?”

“We got older.”

Snufkin deflates slightly at that. Of course, it makes sense; nothing lasts forever, and friendships are no exception. But the reality does little to sooth the pain in his chest resulting from the other’s words. “How…unfortunate.”

“It is the way of things, Snufkin. I hold little against him, as I’m sure he holds little against me.” Joxter pauses, looking around at the darkness around them. “Us Joxters are adventurous folk. Too much so for our Moomintrolls—and I’ve heard the same applies to Snufkins as well?”

All Snufkin can do is nod. The howling of the wind grows louder in their ears, Snufkin fighting the urge to cover his ears as they walk, stumbling upon a path between the rocks.

“Ah, here we are.” Joxter peers into the crack between the rocks, peering beyond. He hums, leaning back and calling over his shoulder, “Seems worth investigating. What say you, Snufkin?”

_Anything to move on from this conversation,_ Snufkin thinks to himself miserably. “Who shall go first?” he asks.

“I wouldn’t mind going. Unless you have anything against that?”

“No, Papa, I don’t.”

The other Mumrik just nods. Snufkin watches as he disappears into the next area, swallowed up by the break between the rock, leaving Snufkin alone, in the dark and feeling colder than the air around him. Guilty—not only for leaving like he does, but for being back later than usual this season. _I hope Moomin doesn’t hold it against me…surely he’d understand?_

_…But then again…perhaps he wouldn’t. It takes two to make a friendship, after all._

“Are you coming, Snufkin?” his father calls from the other side, and Snufkin jumps, jolted from his thoughts.

“Y-Yes, I’m coming, just a second,” Snufkin sputters, shivering from the cold. He gives a final, quick look around at the cave before slipping inside, entering the next room.

It’s not anything to gawk at, he decides. He steps into the next room only to find it empty, save for a pile of leaves made up almost like a nesting bed, a hole acting as a skylight hanging above their heads. The air isn’t as cold and the wind isn’t as loud, leaving behind a deafening silence that makes Snufkin’s ears ring. 

They’ve reached a dead end. And they’re alone.

Snufkin sighs, his face flushing, his hands sweating. _Keep it together, Snufkin_, he tells himself. _It’s not a big deal. Don’t make it into one_. “Well,” he mutters, crossing his arms, “this was a waste. Moomin and Little My will be disappointed to hear about this…”

“I dare disagree. I wouldn’t call it a complete loss.”

Snufkin blinks. He looks up at his father, his eyebrows furrowed together. “What do you mean?”

Joxter wanders over to the leaf pile, inspecting it with a small smile, kicking a few stray ones closer to the pile. He looks up at Snufkin, a twinkling in his eyes as he murmurs, “I think it’s time we have that talk.”

The heat in his cheeks turns unbearable.

_I’m so fucked. _

**Author's Note:**

> the joxkin tag needed a longfic
> 
> ...i told myself, as i proceeded to cry while planning this story. 
> 
> i will have this set to update during the weekends, if only to save my sanity during the upcoming semester. so, i hope you enjoy!


End file.
